Living with mental health issues

I didn't realize how much of an impact my family life had made on my mental health growing up in a religious household. I always thought that these bouts of depression or anxiety were spiritual affairs I guess and it was God disciplining me for having impure thoughts (since this all started around puberty for me) and I just accepted it. I made sure to keep myself heavily involved in the church and I guess people saw me as some sort of spiritual giant; untouchable and sincere in every word. I worked in the children's ministry for my entire teenage years (wouldn't trade that experience for anything... God, I miss those little guys) and went to every church service and event and by the time I got old enough to join the army I was going to church related events 4/7 days a week.
So, I can tell I'm losing you at this point, but hang in there I'm getting to the point of the meme above all this.
So in the Army I realized a few things:
1) People suck, like really really suck. I put myself out there to help my battle pass a test and I got recycled for "cheating." For someone like me who takes academics very seriously and is extremely good at taking tests this accusation crushed me.
2) Religion and Faith are so very different things. I tried to find solace in the Army chapel services but I discovered that people corrupt whatever they can to suite their own purposes and the chaplains always preached the core Army values.
3) God couldn't or wouldn't save me from myself. I grew more and more depressed to the point where every waking moment all I could think about was killing myself in numerous ways; jumping in front of traffic, hanging myself with my belt, slitting my wrists with my razor, etc.
So after a couple months I finally pulled together enough courage to write a letter to my DS about how I was feeling and after an extremely humiliating conversation with the 1st SGT I was off to CMHS to get my medical discharge.

Fast forward through few years that I can hardly remember outside of going weeks without showering or even leaving my parents apartment, I finally found meaning in my life again. I went back to school and found that I was really good at learning (I was homeschooled btw so I didn't have much exposure to standardized education). After a few weeks I met someone that I really connected with and quickly developed a crush on her. Fast forward again and we're in a relationship, my anxiety and depression hits me again like a freight train, and I end up in the hospital. I don't blame her for leaving me not long after that, I really don't, but it still hurt nonetheless, and I continued my schooling trying to pretend like nothing changed.
Before she left me she badgered me into seeing a therapist to try and help me open up about my problems, after a few weeks of this I relented and started seeing someone. I laugh now at this because I was so used to hiding what I was feeling from everyone around me to protect myself that the therapist thought I was totally fine and should stop our sessions about 6 months in. That's when I finally opened up about all my episodes and how bad they would get (yes I'm still seeing her biweekly two years later).
It was my therapist that originally suggested that I try out medication to help me fight back against my mental instability, and at first I pushed back against that idea because of a complicated mix of not wanting to admit defeat as I saw it, not wanting to be like my dad, and not wanting to become dependent on medicine for my well-being. It wasn't until several months later where I started up on imgur and saw how other people were accepting of the idea of medication that the stigma against "chemical help" began to fade from my mind and I decided to try and get in to see a doctor about it.
This is where one of my last posts picks up:
https://imgur.com/gallery/hrpyBtnhttps://imgur.com/gallery/Dv0Rbh3
Things were finally looking up for once.

It's been a total of 5 months now being on antidepressants and after 4 months I noticed my symptoms were worsening so I went back to my doctor explaining how things were turning out and he recommended doubling my dosage. One month later the symptoms haven't changed and its starting to scare me. I can't seem to have more than a day feeling "normal" before I get hit upside the head with my depression again. I'm worried that because I'm on sertraline, an SSRI, the ineffectiveness could be due to the fact that my depression isn't caused by problems with re-uptake of serotonin but rather production of serotonin.
So that's MY sob story, I'm doing okay right now and I have a clear enough head to keep myself from hurting myself when things get bad, its just rough to live with.

My adorable cat Mercy who is the only one around who doesn't care if I'm feeling like human trash; when she wants cuddles, she gets cuddles.
Edit: Omg I never thought I'd actually make it to the front page! You all are awesome and thank you for all the advice and encouragement that you've shown me, even if I didn't agree with your comments I still read them all and deeply appreciate you taking the time to write something down. So yeah, uhh send cute animal pics!